


predictable as ever, my love

by hipsquare



Series: hipsquare's She-Ra tarot prompt table challenge [1]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, But also takes place in canon as well?, Canonical Character Death, Community: femslashficlets, Exes, F/F, Tarot Challenge, post-season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:26:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24452050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hipsquare/pseuds/hipsquare
Summary: After Angella's sacrifice, Shadow Weaver reflects on her feelings for the fallen queen.
Relationships: Angella/Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra)
Series: hipsquare's She-Ra tarot prompt table challenge [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1766083
Comments: 6
Kudos: 54
Collections: femslashficlets, femslashficlets: tarot prompt challenge





	predictable as ever, my love

**Author's Note:**

> For [femslashficlet's](https://femslashficlets.dreamwidth.org/) tarot prompt challenge. The prompt for this one was '12. The Hanged Man - Great personal sacrifice that still doesn't hurt much.'
> 
> A lot of headcanon in this piece!

Shadow Weaver was present when Adora delivered the news of the queen’s death.

Glimmer wept in Adora’s arms, which in turn caused Adora to choke back stifled sobs. Shadow Weaver knew her daughter. Adora felt guilty, since she’d apparently been there with Angella when she sacrificed herself to close the portal that Catra had opened. The boy they were always with — the one with the bows and arrows — comforted them both, tears at the corner of his eyes that eventually leaked down his face.

Shadow Weaver had then been escorted away, back to the room that Angella so fervently insisted was a ‘prison.’ It seemed nobody had a use for Shadow Weaver’s presence, something that even Shadow Weaver could understand.

Shadow Weaver sat on the couch, that of which was garbed with plush pillows. It was supposed to be ‘secretly,’ as Angella had snuck into the room during nighttime, pillows tucked underneath both arms. Back then, Shadow Weaver had smirked behind her mask. As if Angella could see through Shadow Weaver’s mask, she scowled.

“ _What_ is so funny, witch?” Angella hissed, voice shrill and familiar, laced with faux-venom and an undeniable tremor. 

“Do you really think no-one will notice that you’ve garnished my room?” Shadow Weaver had laughed as she fluffed the pillows to rest her elbows on, cocky in her body language. “You’re predictable as ever… Angella.”

The light in Angella’s eyes flickered in the darkness before she departed that night, only to return time and time again the following nights after.

Now Shadow Weaver was left in an empty room.

Shadow Weaver picked up one of the books Angella had brought to her. No matter how she thumbed through the pages, however, Shadow Weaver could not bring herself to actually read and process the words. Her mind was occupied. She was unfocused. Such a state was not ideal for her.

Shadow Weaver thought of Angella as she studied the words on creased pages.

She’d known the queen from many years back. When Shadow Weaver was but a Mystacor sorceress by the name of Light Spinner, and the queen was but a princess. 

Shadow Weaver remembered when it began. Looking back at that time, Angella reminded her so much of Glimmer, a bit reckless and childish but with a strong head on her shoulders. Angella would sneak into Mystacor to mingle with the sorcerers and speak to the elders, tired from royal duties and looking for an outlet of escape. She was quite the social butterfly, unlike the reclusive Light Spinner. 

She remembered when the princess befriended her. A bit by force on the princesses’ end, admittedly. Angella was entranced by Light Spinner’s powers as a sorceress, and would often invite herself to watch Light Spinner encant and draw her spell circles. 

“You don’t mind, do you, Light Spinner?” Angella would ask, using those large wings of hers to perch herself high above Light Spinner. “I think you _like_ my company.”

“I’ve no right to deny the princess as a guest of mine,” Light Spinner would say, each time hiding the faintest of smiles behind the veil she wore.

Shadow Weaver remembered when their relationship had snowballed into something more. It’d been Angella who had confessed to her, hand pressed over Light Spinner’s, tracing her fingers with her thumb.

“I want to kiss you, Light Spinner…”

For the first time in what felt like years, Light Spinner had let her veil down to let Angella do exactly that.

Angella talked often of the future, in the few years they spent together; years that greatly paled in comparison to Angella’s lifespan. Angella was an immortal being. She loathed the idea of one day leaving Light Spinner behind, would often say so as she caressed her face.

“I never wish to leave your side, my Light Spinner,” she’d say softly, affectionately; a smile curled on her lips but pain reflected in the depths of her pupils.

Yet their time had ended far earlier than Angella had anticipated.

Light Spinner enacted the Spell of Obtainment and betrayed the sorcerer’s guild in the process. She became an outcast in Mystacor — an enemy of Etheria when she sought out the Horde to aid them in an act of revenge as the dark sorceress Shadow Weaver. 

Angella called for her head, as the leader of the ‘Rebellion.’

That was fine with Shadow Weaver. Her heart had no room for Angella anymore. All Shadow Weaver knew was hatred with no end, a bottomless blackness rooted within her that consumed and took. 

She taught her Horde cadets to kill the wicked queen leader of the princesses on sight. A treat for Angella, should she ever come to the front lines (yet she hadn’t; she hid like a coward. Was it from her?).

Yet when she’d been reunited once again with Angella, she had it in her to… protect Angella. She’d done it naturally, without much thought at all. _“You must be Glimmer’s mother,”_ she’d said back then, acting as though she’d never known her in the first place. Acting as though she’d never kissed those lovely lips, as if she’d never made love to her body. 

Was it hurt that had flashed across Angella’s expression, then — pain that ran deeper than the threat to her daughter? An expression meant to say, ‘have you really forgotten me?’

Whatever it was, it was fine. It was over. Angella was dead.

Angella often talked of forever, even back in the days of their youth. And yet she had sacrificed herself to a fate worse than death. Angella was always filled with light — the opposite of Shadow Weaver. It was only natural that she’d give her life away to a beautiful cause. That she’d trade immortality for a sacrifice she found worthwhile.

Alone in the prison room, Shadow Weaver set down the book on her lap and removed her mask. 

She smiled faintly.

“Predictable as always… my Angella,” Shadow Weaver said aloud to the empty room.


End file.
